And With That, Everything Changes
by PhlegmaticLenna
Summary: The summer before his fourth year, Harry receives his inheritance. From his father: wealth and political power. From his mother: much, much more. - Powerful Harry, eventual H/HR


Immediately upon lugging his things upstairs, Harry noticed a small, square envelope sitting on his bedside table. He wasn't particularly worried about it, but curious. Could be some early mail, somehow arrived with notice of the Dursleys. Could be from the Dursleys, a sweet little message like 'stay in your room and don't speak to us'. In any case, he figured he'd read it immediately, having nothing else better to do.

The return address informed him it came from Gringotts. He peeled away the wax seal - fine stationary. The letter inside was very simple, a single page, unfolded, only the size of the envelope.

'Mr. Harry Potter,'

It read,

'About two weeks from when you'll be reading this, we at Gringotts uncovered a severe problem with your accounts, fault on our side. We would very much like to correct all errors we have made and restore our honor.

When it is convenient for you and within one week, come to Gringotts where we may discuss this problem and its resolution. Simply place your thumb over the red-inked box at the bottom of this page and speak the words: "Gringotts corpus meum, ita disposita". Do not fear that you will be unable to properly pronounce the words, they will work regardless.

We are expecting you and ready at any time.

Flailmin, Gringotts Manager #23'

Harry smirked somewhat. The letter had hints of polite attempts, but also had the usual goblin bluntness to it. He looked around his room. He might as well go now, really.

Though he knew they wouldn't worry for him and didn't much care if they did, he still penned a short note to the Dursleys telling them he had stepped out and would return shortly in case they came looking for him.

He mused about what the great error could be. Hopefully nothing too serious.

Without any further delay, he pressed his thumb into the small red box.

"Gringotts corpus meum, ita disposita,"

Immediately, he experienced an unfamiliar but distinctly magic feeling. Whereas Apparition gave one the feeling of squeezing through a tube, this strange teleportation was more like traveling through some sort of void, a shorter path to the destination. Stumbling slightly, he arrived in a simple, mostly undecorated office. It was empty, but the door opened right away. A small goblin poked his head through to say: "Mr. Flailmin will be with you shortly. You may sit." With that, the goblin shut the door again.

Harry didn't feel he really had anything to fear from Gringotts, but still was a little nervous.

He didn't have time to dwell on that, a goblin appeared so quickly he had not even a chance to sit down.

The goblin shot out his hand to shake.

"Mr. Potter. I am Flailmin, assigned today to help resolve this situation. You may sit."

It felt more like an order than an offer, but Harry took it politely and sat down.

Flailmin continued on like a steamroller.

"I see no point in wasting time, so I shall be blunt, Mr. Potter. You may stop me if you feel a need to take time to process this information. Now," The goblin was the utmost of serious and even seemed a little angry. Not at him, Harry was able to note, "Before the death of your parents in 1981, a will was arranged through Gringotts, to be carried out immediately upon confirmation of their deaths. We have discovered that you were led to believe it was, that the gold in your vault is all the Potter fortunes amounted to. This is not the case. The will was not fulfilled.

Before I explain to you the implications of that, allow me to explain how this happened.

A certain period is always allotted here at Gringotts before a will is carried out, to confirm deaths, to allow people to come forward with information, to give us at Gringotts time to organize affairs. Depending on the individuals in question, this period can be longer or shorter, but never exceeds three months. And yet," Flailmin looked furious, "For reasons yet unknown, the period in this case was extended indefinately. It is through pure coincidence that we discovered your file and realized the will was unfulfilled. Mr. Potter. We goblins pride ourselves on our honor. If we have made a promise, that promise will be kept. To have failed in such a way is to us an atrocious sin.

In hopes of restoring our honor, the goblin nation has awarded you 200,000 Galleons. In addition, you have our support.

The money you believed belonged to you - which the goblins you have spoken with also believed belonged to you - was in fact given to you by Mr. Albus Dumbledore, your headmaster. A direct gift. Nothing you own has come from your parents.

You have at your disposal a school account of 2,000 Galleons along with pre-paid tuition for every year of your schooling at Hogwarts. When you are formally declared an independent adult, the full Potter fortune housed here in Gringotts, 3,028,975,201 Galleons, will be available for your use.

Included also in the will: the four Potter properties, two rented out, Godric's Hollow still empty and demolished, the Potter Manor kept by house-elf Glorie, the contents of the Potter vault here in Gringotts, all Potter investments and stocks, and, when you are of age, the Potter seat on the Wizengamot."

"I - wha-"

But Flailmin apparently did not take that as enough of a cue to stop speaking. "The will also presented the Potter's final wishes. You were to be placed with a wizarding family: the Longbottoms, the Bones, a few others, never with the Dursleys. You were to be taught a number of subjects and informed of the prophesy and its ramifications. And when you were old enough to understand, you were to read these letters."

Flailmin removed two envelopes from his desk. Both read "Harry" in different penmanship.

Flailmin presented one. "This was from you father."

Harry was hugely confused and his mind abuzz with questions. Yet the possibility of hearing from his parents was far more important. He wordless took the letter and, a little too enthusiastically, removed the seal.

'My Beloved Son,

If you are reading this, then I am gone. That goes without saying, I suppose. All that I can say is that I am sorry. We never meant to leave you, Harry. Please understand that.

I want to teach you how to ride a proper broom. How to duel with grace. To be a man, chivalrous. I want to send you off to school and hear your stories. Will you be a Gryffindor, like your father? Not that it matters, but I want to know. Lily told me how fathers teach their children how to catch in the muggle world - I want to do that. If you are reading this, then I guess I never will.

But if you're reading this, then you are safe. And happy, I'm assuming - I think any friend of mine would be good family. I can take comfort in thinking that.

I'm sorry to be so sad. These aren't words of comfort, are they? I'm sorry.

I have so much to tell you that we can't put into words. So much advice that just won't translate. I'll try what I can:

Be brave. Heaven knows I know the word is full of cruelty. But there's also so much kindness in it. Find friends who will support you. Protect them. Don't judge someone on their family - don't be like him. Be yourself. And be prudent. Be kind. Be wise. Listen to other people and listen to your own heart. Find your way in the world and find your place.

I've heard the prophesy. I know that hard times are ahead for you. So again, I say be brave. I know you have it in you to survive through anything - I haven't known you long, but I know you, Harry. You have your mothers spirit even more than you have her eyes.

I love you. I know you'll do great out there in the world. I know you'll do great.

Your father,

James Potter'

Harry closed his eyes when he finished reading it. He sat still and silent in the chair, forgetting the goblin in front of him and everything around him. He cried, just a little. He'd mourned long before now. And true, he hadn't really know them, could not remember their faces or what they were like. He sighed and caught his breath back. Then he read the letter in his hands again and again. When he was through, he wiped his face and asked Flailmin for the other letter. His mother.

'Harry, my son,

Hard times are ahead, child. You must be ready.

Your father and I will be watching over you. Our friends, who survive us, will be there for you.

My child, I am heartbroken to leave you. I can look over at you where you play in the other room. I can't imagine a life where I can't protect you.

I have many things to tell you. Harry, if you feel you are not ready to understand, or if you are not safe where you are, you wait with this letter. Take it with you to somewhere safe. Read it alone.

Now I'll begin.

Your father never approved of dark magic. It's understandable why: rarely can it be used without bringing horrible pain or death. It corrupts, turns the beautiful to hideous, some say bends souls. But dark magic is a force of nature like anything else. Gravity keeps our bodies on earth, the sky is blue, hot air rises, and spells do what they do. The dark arts are versatile and pragmatic. They can be used for good as well as evil.

Without your father's notice, I have used them for good.

Should I die before you do (and if you are reading this, then I have), you will be given a great protection. Do not waste it, for it came at a terrible cost. Should anyone strike you with the intent of killing you, they will themselves be killed. This spell will only work once.

I love your father. Quite possibly more than anything else. People who disagree with me are not 'bad'. If someone disagrees with you Harry, the same. Always try to understand other people. And furthermore, understand that people can change: your father himself was quite a bully once.

If my will has been fulfilled as I should like, you have already heard the prophesy. I have reason to suspect it will not be. I love my friends, Harry. But not everyone in the world is to be trusted. With no other options, I can only trust chance will bring this letter to you. I pray for chance to gods I don't believe in. And I pray for you, Harry.

The prophesy is as follows:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."

Should you not understand: You are the child indicated. Though you and Voldemort (do not fear his name!) may both live in the same, neither of you can experience a true life until the other is dead. Furthermore, since you have the power to destroy him, Voldemort will never let you live, even if you could live without affecting one another. I don't know what your 'power' is. Dumbledore, a good man I never-the-less do not trust, has said to me he is certain this power is love. Your father, blessed man, seems to think the same. But we have no way of knowing.

If you have the resources available, research this. And may I encourage you: spend time in research. Knowledge is power.

In the Potter vault is a trunk I've prepared for you. Hugely valuable resources lie inside. Tell no one about them until you are certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can trust them.

I want you to learn Occlumency. Legilimency. Your animagus form. Politics. History. Magic both Light and Dark, to use only when you need it. In the trunk I have books prepared on these subjects and many others.

The trunk itself is also heavily enchanted. You will be safe inside it and inside it, time is suspended. You will not age. Your body will not change. Even your soul cannot truly change within. But you can learn. You can study there with impunity, no worry for time or being observed.

The creation of this trunk involved the darkest magic I know. I would not approve its use - but times are desperate not just for us but for the world. If you were to fail, the entire wizarding world would be plunged into darkness - do not let that happen.

Your father and I have not had portraits made. A portrait is not a true depiction of a person. It's unlikely that we will remain on as ghosts or through any other medium.

I don't want you to be alone, Harry. I want you to have people you can trust. But you have to know that trust is hard to find.

I love you, my son.

The best of luck, all my wishes,

Lily Potter'

Harry cleared his voice a few times. Like his father's, he read the letter again and again - this time to understand it.

"I - I'd like to see the vault." He said in a very quiet voice.

Flailmin seemed to understand.

He spoke something sharp in Gobledegook and another goblin quickly entered the room.

"I am Stiffhide. Follow me, please. I will show you to your vaults."

This time, there was no ride down. Harry wondered how deep they were. It was very cold. No windows.

Stiffhide presented an unremarkable door with a number on it.

"It's sealed by your blood - only you can enter. Take whatever time that you need. Should you wish to remove anything, you may do so at your ease. I will wait here for you."

Harry opened the door. There was a slight rush of magic as he did so, but nothing more. Inside was a second door.

"Close the first and you may open the next." Stiffhide told him.

Harry did so. Inside the second door was a crammed but large room. Floor to ceiling were works of art, gold items, furniture, armor, all kinds of ancient and valuable things. What Harry cared about was an assuming trunk just in front of him.

A piece of paper was pinned to the fabric on the outside of it.

"If you open it normally, it will appear only as a trunk. Lay your hands flat on the surface and say 'I wish to enter the secret space' to reveal the true inside. The trunk will only open for you. Close the trunk behind you to stop time within."

Harry laid his hands flat on it and spoke the words. Nothing seemed to happen, but when he opened the lid, he could see a ladder that appeared to extend past the floor. He lifted the trunk slightly to check: it was an impossible space.

With no more hesitation, he climbed inside, shutting the lid behind him. As he did so, he felt a terrific rush of magic - so powerful he lost his bearings and his grip on the ladder.

Thankfully, the floor was not far away.

He stood, rubbing his back, and looked around him. He was standing at the end of a narrow hallway with four rooms on either side. At the far end, past the rooms, was a table.

He walked swiftly to it. A small bag sitting there was marked 'Expanded'. Next to the bag were a pair of wand holsters. And next to those, another note. A simple one. It explained the shrinking charm and how to reverse it. He put on the wand holsters and moved on.

He started with the first room on the left. Inside was an attractive study. There was a proper desk fitted with everything a person would need to work and a coffee table with a low couch and armchair. The walls were covered in bookshelves, mostly full with books. Interestingly, the space was impossible - the study was larger than what space would be needed to have something behind the next door.

He closed the door, ready to return later and proceeded the next door on the left.

Again, an impossible space. This was a practice room. There were three practice dummies on the far wall. The left wall had a number of weapons, both magical and mundane in nature, as well as exercise equipment. Nothing that would build strength - only balance or skill. If his body couldn't be changed here, strength building equipment would not be useful.

The third room was an alchemist's den, fitted with everything he would need for potion brewing. The entire left wall was covered in books.

The fourth room was a strange workspace. In the center of the room was a high table surrounded by four stools. Every wall was covered in storage for strange tools, materials, and books. It had a certain resemblance to a muggle workshop, but also full of many things he didn't understand. With a little looking around, Harry realized he could use this space for creating and enchanting items. Useful.

The fifth room was much smaller than the others. In the center stood a simple, undecorated Pensieve. There was a single bookshelf inside, every other wall was filled with shelved bottle. Each bottle appeared empty and bore a blank label.

He moved on to the next room: There was a full apartment inside! A bedroom, an office, a bath, a kitchen, and a connected living space. It was cozy, but fine. All it lacked was windows.

Harry thought for a moment about how useful such a space could really be. He could not change his body here, so was eating, sleeping, so on necessary? Well, if it was, he could do so.

Both the seventh and eighth rooms were storage for a number of strange items. What was remarkable lay inside the eighth room. There were four sets of Dragonhide armor in ranging sizes. He was struck that the smallest set appeared fit for a child. Upon it was a single note:

"Wear your armor whenever you go out. Be safe."

At that point, Harry broke down and cried. He had thought he'd had enough of tears for a day when he read his father's letter, he was mistaken. He cried his heart out in a sort of shock. But he finished quickly.

It seemed he had a lot to learn.

The armor was very thin and somewhat malleable, being made of hide instead of metal. He could easily wear it under his clothes discreetly.

Even though he was alone, out of habit he still closed the door behind him when he changed.

He felt a little heavier wearing the armor. A little stronger too, maybe.

Harry exited the trunk. Once outside he closed and re-opened the lid. The trunk appeared mundane. He shrunk it and hid it away within his expanded bag.

He decided to take some time to explore the vault. The experience could help him calm his mind before he went out to face the goblins again.

It was full of what looked like interesting pieces of history. When he felt calm, he left the vault, closing the door behind him.

Stiffhide took him back to Flailmin's office and left.

"Have you satisfied that?" Flailmin asked him.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Do not thank us, Mr. Potter. We no longer have any right to your thanks. If you are ready to proceed, we have more to go over. It would appear that you were never assigned a proper magical guardian. Mr. Albus Dumbledore has been your acting guardian, as he is with all muggleborn students. As he is only acting, he cannot stop you should you wish to become recognized as an adult in the wizarding world. Do you?"

Harry nodded.

Flailmin presented a dagger.

"Cut open your hand on this. Make sure the wound bleeds."

Harry's stomach turned somewhat, but Flailmin seemed nonchalant about it, so he assumed it was standard procedure. He gritted his teeth and made the cut on the back of his hand, where he wasn't likely to mind it so much. Within a second, the wound healed itself.

"We must wait for the blood to be recognized. In the meantime," Flailmin presented a ring,

"This ring will recognize you as Head of the Potter Household under any magical scrutiny. Hide it by twisting it around your finger."

Harry took the ring, which was surprisingly simple - no crest, lettering, or decoration, a simple gold band. The magic behind it was what counted, he supposed. He twisted it once around his finger. As Flailmin said, it disappeared, but he could still feel the weight on his finger.

Flailmin looked over a piece of paper while Harry admired his ring. Harry jumped when he heard the goblin gasp - goblins weren't known to do that.

He spoke sharply in Gobledegook again and another goblin ran in - not Stiffhide, someone else. The goblin looked at the paper, to Harry, then the paper again. He spoke sharply to Flailmin in Gobledegook.

"Mr. Potter - Lord Potter, should I say - it would appear you may have inherited even further. We are fetching the rings to verify."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "What further?"

"I'd rather not say until we're sure."

A goblin appeared beside Harry by magic, startling him. He bore a heavy-looking oak box. Four very different rings rested inside. He recognized the colors instantly: rubies set in gold for Gryffindor, sapphires set in bronze for Ravenclaw, emeralds set in silver for Slytherin, and topaz set in a black metal for Hufflepuff. What on earth could they mean? With a horrible drop in his stomach, he realized.

"S-surely not?" He said, looking to Flailmin.

"Please, Mr. Potter. Try the rings. They will not harm you if we are mistaken, only send a red spark to let us know."

Harry swallowed. What a day this was turning out to be! He reached out to the box presented him and cautiously touched the Gryffindor ring. Nothing happened, but Flailmin still took in a deep and shaky breath.

Harry brushed his fingers over the other three rings. Still, nothing happened.

"Mr. Potter." Flailmin said with a certain exhaustion in his voice. "You are heir to the four greatest wizards of your time - they are remarkable even in goblin history. You are heir to Hogwarts itself."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked.

"From what the black paper says... they come from your mother. I don't believe she ever realized. In a muggle line... all along... " And that was the first time Harry ever heard a goblin chuckle.

When he had regained control of himself, Flailmin continued. "Wear the rings, Mr. Potter. It is proper that you do so. As with the Potter ring, they are easily hidden. I can also promise you that they will not slip off your fingers, nor be taken without your permission."

It was a tight squeeze to have five rings on his fingers. He put three on his left hand and two on his right. He felt a bit dizzy and a bit queasy - was this really happening? He pinched his arm absentmindedly. It hurt.

"What does this mean, Mr. Flailmin?" Harry asked.

"It means," Flailmin cleared his throat, "You have full control over Hogwarts. The building itself is alive and will obey you. It was sleeping, but having felt you, will wake. Furthermore, legally you own and manage Hogwarts and the surrounding property, including the entire town of Hogsmead. The Founders' four items - regardless of where they came from - will recognize themselves as belonging to you. You can summon them and use them with impunity. You have political titles in both the magical and the muggle world. And all wizard houses are considered below you. Something I must warn you about, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up sharply, "Yes, sir?"

"The founders racked up many debts when building their great school. No, not money - favors. These favors are now all on your shoulders. How and when you choose to pay them is up to you, but many families will likely try to, shall we say, 'cash in,' as soon as possible. Not to mention some awkwardness: I know Slytherin promised one of its children in marriage to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to Gryffindor and Gryffindor to Slytherin and Hufflepuff to Slytherin - one could say you've married yourself four times over in becoming heir to all four houses, being single, and not yet having children. Any marriage records in the realm will state that Harry Potter has married Harry Potter four times."

An idea struck Harry. "But will those records mention my new status? Or any other records for that matter?"

"...Yes." Said Flailmin, seeming to understand, "Lord Harry Potter has married Lord Harry Potter. Nothing more, as you've yet to take an official title. And the book of Houses will record your becoming Head of House. But... this book is located inside Gringotts and is in the power of the goblins." Flailmin suddenly spoke quickly, "There may still be time if you wish to hide your inheiritances. Do you?"

"Yes!" Said Harry, sensing the urgency.

The goblin who had presented the four rings disappeared. Harry noted how silent he was - a very interesting matter. But he turned back to the matter at hand.

Flailmin spoke: "As for being 'Lord' Potter... you could feign ignorance. It wouldn't take a far guess to realize you would have inheirited the Potter title. If you like, no one will know that anything has really changed: as the last of the Potters, you would be officially known as Lord already. No one need know you have claimed adulthood."

Harry felt ill as he realized how deceptive his thoughts were. He pushed the feeling aside. "I would like to keep this secret, for now - I don't want any more attention and I don't think it would be useful to have the information out just yet. Perhaps later. But for now, can I trust your discretion?"

"If you can't trust the discretion of the Goblin Nation, you can trust nothing." Flailmin said.

At that point, Harry felt the meeting was over.

"I recommend you return in the near future to go over your accounts, Mr. Potter." Flailmin said as Harry stood. "You can return directly to this office in the same way you entered today. Good day, Mr. Potter."

It must mean a lot for a goblin to say 'good day' without sarcasm. Harry returned the sentiment and used the letter to return home, writing down the words 'Quia unde veni composito.'

He lay on his bed to think. Quite a bit had changed that day. He should get up sometime soon. He had a lot of studying to do.

* * *

Please let me know if you see any mistakes or instances of bad writing or if you have a certain desire to change where the story is going. I'm glad to hear anything!


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